Recently, one of my children was told very specifically not to do something because they would get hurt if they did it. About an hour later I hear a wail coming from their direction. Sure enough they did exactly what I told them not to do and they got hurt.
I am not exactly a prophet like Isaiah was, but he told the people of Judah that God’s judgment was near if they did not stop what they were doing. He even predicted that the people of Judah would blame God for the problems that they were facing. Wouldn’t it be absolutely ridiculous if my child who was hurt after I told them to be careful were to blame me for their pain after they were careless?
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The smell was so bad he was embarrassed to take friends to lunch.
My husband drove a burgundy Saturn in the early days of our marriage. And it stunk. For a male, a little stink in a car is like a trophy. What guy wants his wheels to smell of strawberries and roses?
But over time, the smell was more than he could bear. He tried scented pine trees fresheners. When that didn’t work, he put oil of wintergreen on cotton balls under the seats.
No matter how he tried to mask the terrible odor, it remained. When co-workers suggested lunch outings, Alan cringed at the thought of shuttling friends in the stink-mobile, and rolled down the windows to blow the stench away.
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I tiptoe into my daughter’s room to check if she’s asleep. It’s been a long week and she’s had a lot on her plate. Twelve years old can be a tough age, I’m learning. There are new experiences, new decisions, new situations.
Quietly, I stand next to her bed and look at her–my little girl, asleep, her head resting sideways on her pillow.
My little girl who is not so little anymore.
I sigh, thinking about the high expectations she has of herself and how she tends to worry. I know I was the same way growing up–I still am sometimes.
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Sometimes gifts come in the most unexpected packages.
Sometimes they are the very thing you didn’t even know you needed.
I sat in the airport terminal a couple of weeks ago, my heart literally torn, struggling to be in two places at once. We were about to board a plane for a long anticipated trip when I received word that my best friend’s brother had just passed away.
The past few days had been spent with Cheryl and—though I knew the prognosis was grave—I had somehow hoped I’d be back and able to be at her side when the end came.
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While reading a blog post on teaching diligence to children, I experienced guilt and determination to do better.
I felt guilty because I had failed to heed the blogger’s wise words. I haven’t taught my children diligence by insisting on first-time obedience from birth. Oh, I’ve tried doing that many times. But fatigue gets the best of me and I quickly slip back into the “Don’t-make-me-tell-you-again-or-else” routine.
I also felt guilty because in opposition to the blogger’s admonition, I haven’t been the best example of diligence myself. Although I have the best intentions of working hard on a project to completion or establishing good habits, I often find myself doing something that seems more fun (like blogging!).
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Sometimes we wonder if anyone is really paying any attention to our
words; if there’s any value in getting them down. There are times Solomon’s words echo through my head, “Of the making of many books, there is no end.” And I wonder if it is a worthy effort to add my own volumes–whether bound with pages or online–to the multitudes still and coming into existence.
God had Moses write down his words to the Israelites. Jesus used stories to communicate God’s truth to his disciples and to the masses who followed Him. And when all was said and done, God gave us a book to remember what He’d done and to reveal Himself to we who live thousands of years later.
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I should have been happy as I rode in the passenger seat of my minivan. Beautiful day passing by outside my window. Handsome husband chatting it up beside me. Three little girls riding peacefully behind me. An all around lovely day.
And yet, I was anything but happy. My problem? I had the image of a model from the cover of a magazine stuck in my head- seemingly perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect legs. Although I am well aware so many of those pictures are airbrushed, discouragement still set in.
“Lord, would it have hurt to make me a bit more attractive?”
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With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible. Matthew 19:26 NIV
photo © 2005 Luca Masters | more info (via: Wylio)
Have you ever thought about the power of the conjunction? A conjunction connects words, phrases, or clauses. It builds bridges between words, pathways linking words that may have otherwise never been united. One of my favorite popular and powerful conjunctions is but. A sentence can skip along in one direction, then with the addition of one little conjunction, the meaning can stop and march the other way.
Really. It’s that powerful. Here is an example.
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